Survival of the Fittest
by xxPeppermintxx109
Summary: She's been asleep for a thousand years, her brother for many more. It's her time to wake though and to begin her part in the game. It's a game of survival and not everyone is fit to play.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Survival of the fittest. A term supposedly created by Charles Darwin. A term that caused controversy with religious schoolings and leaders. A term that revolutionized how people saw others. Or how humans saw mutants.

But the term wasn't created by Darwin. He simply expanded on the idea of evolution. The man who began the idea of "fitness" was an outlaw leader who went by the name Baal. He bestowed upon my brother and I our names and our ideals. My brother was given the name of En Sabah Nur, meaning "The First One". I was gifted the name of En Neheh Ankh, or "The Repeating-Cycle of Life". Baal taught us his idea and mindset of "survival of the fittest". He bestowed his teachings upon us graciously as we aged. And he told my brother and I something we used vigorously.

We would become conquerors.

It wasn't until many years later that we actually used our teachings to discover the "fittest" empires and nations. We aged slowly, more slowly than average human beings. Baal had only been early in his life when he found us abandoned in the streets. We were only looking to be young children when he hit after his mid-ages. We only looked to be adolescents when he passed on and his Ba went to be weighed.

We had lived through the First and Second dynasties of ancient Egypt in hiding. We were learning our arts and our trades. We had needed to or else we would perish like the humans below us. My brother could manipulate anything he touched. He could bend any material to his will. He could change shape and size. He could take in additional mass. His physical fitness was beyond compare.

I on the other hand could manipulate life. I could leave my own body, my soul carrying me into an empty husk. I could manipulate that body to my needs and change the characteristics to that of my original body. I could manipulate people, using their minds at my whim. I could not read minds, simply control them. And perhaps my greatest ability was that of absorption and distribution of life. I could take it as I pleased and give it just as easily. But the process of learning our arts was not easy.

It took many years for us to even become capable of controlling such gifts. But we had the gifts mastered in a matter of centuries. And before we knew it, we were treated as gods. The day lies vividly in my mind when my brother and I stood upon a dune, hundreds bowing below us as my brother built up the largest pyramid Egypt had ever known, putting Imhotep's step-pyramid to shame. The four men, who protected my brother and I, had sat loyally on their beasts (creatures I had brought to life from clay models my brother built). We called them our four horsemen; Famine, War, Pestilence, and Death were their names.

My brother and I found others like us, mutants as we called them. We would find the strongest ones, as there were few already, and make them our horsemen. They would serve loyally as we conquered. But they were expendable and we replaced them every time they died off, showing my brother's and my own's superiority to even the most advanced of humankind.

I ruled over Egypt many a time and my brother helped expand our empire. We grew to be known as gods due to our abilities. My brother was often called Ra, and the Christians thought him to be God from the stories they heard. I was only told of in Egyptian religion, finding that those who were not of my own culture did not find me "relative" as I was a woman. But I was deemed as Isis by the humans of Egypt. The other religions after did not take kindly to my representation and status as a god and instead held my brother in their "ultimate" respects. But my brother and I were still gods.

For thousands of years we conquered and allowed mutant lives to thrive. It has been a thousand years since I have last been awake. My brother has been asleep for two. He will wake when the tide shifts, the winds change, and the light fades. He is not to wake yet, but I can sense he will soon. He will need a host body and four new horsemen. He does not hold the ability like me to completely take over bodies. He can simply possess them whilst he waits for me to prepare his old one into proper form once more. That is why I'm awake. I need to find our horsemen and his host. For change is coming and I will ensure the mutants rise above all, once and for all.

My brother is Apocalypse and I am Aeon.

* * *

 _A/N: So I just saw X-Men: Apocalypse and I was not pleased with how they played some things out. So this story will be taking from the comics and my own ideas. Also, I will be making a trilogy in one book, starting with First Class and extending into Apocalypse, maybe beyond if my mind is up for it. So this is why the history is a little different. Should I continue? Yay or nay?_

 _Love,_

 _P❤_


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Ahh the response already is amazing! Thank you all so much! I hope this chapter will keep up the enjoyment so far._

 **Internet Ghost :** _I wish you had an account so I could PM you! I agree with your opinions on reluctant heroes. I can't stand them really. But Aeon is more so an anti-villain, much like Magneto. Throughout the beginning, she will simply be helping one side for reasons not yet revealed. Though, she will not always be with that side. She believes herself a god, so she will not really be easy to be with. And trust me, the similarities between her and Apocalypse will be scary. The two of them together will be…you'll just have to wait and see :)_

 **Ghostbuster30** : _Thank you!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, or Mutants. I only own Aeon/En Neheh Ankh/Irene Holt and A'alp._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

She had been awake for thirty years. Thirty years and she still had yet to find her brother a set of strong mutants. Every mutant she had come across was weak, scared, and confused. She would have to sink her claws into their mind and force them to show her their abilities. But none had lived up to her expectations. She had thought that a thousand years would help her children grow in strength and number. But in fact, their numbers had only depleted and their strength was waning. Her brother would not be pleased.

Even in his sleep, En Neheh Ankh's brother was sure to feel her frustration and rage at these facts. Of course none were as strong as her and her twin, but none were even close to having a hundredth of their power. They were, of course, gods in the human world, and might as well have that status in the mutant world. Whilst her brother was stronger, En Neheh Ankh was still strong. He had multiple abilities beyond comprehension. She had a few abilities beyond belief. They were stronger, though, together than they were apart.

Aeon shook her head, finding it necessary to use her fake name and her codename for the time being, and to also cease all thoughts on her brother. Her "mutant name" was Aeon. Her fake name was Irene Holt, a name one of her attendants suggested to her after spending a day out in the open world one summer night in 1932. She had used the name for thirty years now, it being 1962, and none had caught onto her non-aging form. She also never spent too much time in one place. She had traveled all of Africa, the Middle East, far Eastern-Asia, and all of Russia in that time span.

Now, she was in New York. A state in America that she found to be…disappointing. The loud sounds of cars and people annoyed her greatly. None used to speak without permission in her presence, that privilege only given to her brother and most loyal attendant, A'alp. Now people screamed and spoke loudly, as if no one could stop them. America annoyed Aeon immensely and she wondered how her and her brother missed the large piece of land. It would have been much different if she had conquered it.

Aeon sat quietly in her "apartment" as A'alp had told her. It was like a home but small and in a larger building of similar rooms. A'alp was a telepath and helped Aeon convince the land lord or whatever they called it to give her the biggest and nicest room, free of charge. This room also included a nice view of the skyline of New York City. Although, the only downside to the time such as this, it had little to no nature left untouched. Whilst it was sometimes beautiful, the creations of man and mutant alike, it lost its glamour at points and Aeon would wish she was back in Egypt with her brother.

Crossing her leg over the other, Aeon leant back in her chair, propping her chin on one hand regally. Even if she was queen no longer, she still held the mannerisms of one.

"A penny for your thoughts?" A'alp's voice sounded through Aeon's ears. She didn't even turn towards her dearest friend as she listened to the rhythmic breathing of the woman next to her. A'alp had promised to never venture in her mind and Aeon held her to that promise. In return, Aeon kept A'alp looking young and vital these last few thousand years.

"It seems that no mutant is able to pique my interest," Aeon said slowly, her voice thick with an accent. Her native tongue was obviously not English, but she spoke it well. "My twin will not be pleased. He is to wake soon and he will act childish if his horsemen are weak creatures and his host is not suitable," she sighed in obvious frustration. She spoke slowly, not even paying attention to A'alp as she cleaned her hands gently. "I rather not deal with a child whilst conquering, once again."

A'alp only nodded her head, Aeon happily feeling no poking on her mind's outer rim. She sometimes felt a little poke or prod but never a touch nor entrance after speaking the way she did. But for once, A'alp stayed silent and didn't respond mentally. The girl had been with her after Aeon had taken to the throne in Egypt towards the end of the Third Dynasty. She had been a handmaiden of sorts after Aeon saved the girl from an angry village, claiming she used witchcraft to harm their leader. Aeon had found her to be a mutant just like her and saved A'alp. Their promises had been kept for thousands of years.

Aeon then remembered something, cocking her head to the side a little. "But, there are a few mutants I am interested in. My brother, perhaps, will be interested in them as well. One goes by the name of Sebastian Shaw. A little bit of a megalomaniac," she said, staring out the window and at the night life of New York City, "but he is strong and can be tamed. He's also got a bit of a group. Consists of four, including him. Perhaps helpful to simply recruit all of them."

She had begun to simply speak her thoughts now, something she rarely did. "A mutant who can transport himself and anyone touching him wherever he wishes. A mutant who can control wind and create tornadoes. And a telepath who can turn into diamond," she said, a bit of a laugh at the end.

"An interesting mix," A'alp spoke softly, her dark eyes focused on her task at hand. She was now braiding Aeon's black hair, taking strands towards the front to braid into little ropes. "Are any of those abilities useful though?" the telepath questioned, looking at the strands she was currently twisting together.

This seemed to stump the five-thousand-plus old mutant, as a concerned look appeared on her face. "No, no they're not. Telepathy isn't necessary. Wind is definitely not key. And teleportation, whilst handy, again not key. We need people like my brother and I. Ones who are strong and can do multiple things. Not just some parlor tricks. Shaw is still a potential specimen though, as I heard he is extremely gifted. But that will be up to me and my brother, he will be the deciding vote when he awakens."

"A smart decision, my lady," A'alp spoke softly, her smooth voice matching her dirt-colored skin. Aeon meant that in a kind way though, not one of mockery. No other brown in the world matched her friend's skin like the brown of dirt did. She also held slightly slanted eyes which seemed to be taken up by blackness. The whites were visible, just not as prominent as the blackness. Her hair was the same shade as the irises of her eyes, and was straightened, reaching her lower back. Her face was smooth and held a heart-shape to it. A'alp's nose was a little thin and long, but Aeon could see why men bowed to her friend's feet when she walked by. She was a pretty woman and she could thank her enhanced genetics for that.

"As always."

A'alp sniggered lightly at Aeon's little display of rare humor. The two women shared a look of mirth between their dark eyes.

Aeon was deemed beautiful when she was younger, especially back in Egypt. But only in the face. Her body was one that men found unattractive and women found blasphemous. Her face was heart-shaped as well but was a bit fuller perhaps. Her cheekbones were defined just enough to show their existence. She held straight, dark eyebrows that were done well with both makeup and plucking to enhance them. Almond-shaped eyes were lined with kohl, something Aeon took from her culture. The black lining helped enhance the oak brown her irises were colored as. Her nose was a tad bit thin, but had a small hook as well, giving off the trademark Egyptian nose. Her lips seemed to be a little too big for her face but she didn't seem to care. Tanned skin covered Aeon's body, being a lighter shade than A'alp.

Her face was pretty enough and had been remembered as the prettiest one before Cleopatra went and stole her title, as the woman who caused Egypt's fall into Roman hands had both a pretty face and body. Aeon's body was not the one that men loved in that time. Men loved narrow shoulders, high waists, flat torsos. Men loved the thin women back when Aeon was still a young girl and growing into her body. Her body though, did not want to be perfect like she thought she was already. She had a bit broader shoulders, larger breasts, a bit of fat to her lower stomach, and a larger lower body. No gap resided between her thighs nor breasts when she had fully matured and no matter which body she ended up taking for herself, it always looked like her original frame. She was criticized greatly for her bodily appearance, but her twin always made sure those who even spoke a word about her body were dead within the second. Her brother helped her become comfortable with her body and the mild deformities that plagued it.

Her gifts came with a price, just like her brother's. He was incapable of living in the same body for very long and needed a host body to switch his spirit and conscience into, Aeon being the one to preform the ceremony every time. His skin color took on a blue tint as a child, but lines now stretched over his face. Aeon had cosmetic issues as well. Even though she took over bodies and made them young again to fit her for a few decades, small things would change. One body, she might have an over abundance of freckles or moles. Another might give her little scales across her skin. Another might leave her with painful sharp vertebrae that popped from her skin. It was always a guessing game. This body though gave her kindness and simply added the fact of her nails growing a bit faster than her liking. But it was better than what she normally got.

Aeon looked down at the white, silk robe she wore and felt A'alp's hands cease their purposeful ministrations in her hair. Oh how Aeon wished she could be back in Egypt with her twin. How she wished she could go and sit once again on a throne with men lining up to see her face simply because she was the female Pharaoh. But, Aeon accepted that that dream was to never come true again. Her and En Sabah Nur were to be stuck conquering once again and to not be allowed home. Baal had told them to not return to Egypt once it had been claimed their own. Why? Aeon knew not, but she knew that the Egyptian people who still believe in Ra and Isis would never forget their loyalty to Aeon and her twin. They would never forget.

"A'alp, what time is it in Florida?"

"I do believe that it is around eight o'clock as well, my lady," the woman answered, a curious tone to her voice. "May I ask why?"

Aeon simply stayed quiet as she rose from her chair, the silk robe draping softly against her body. She walked over to the window-wall and placed a hand on it gently. Her finger-pads pressed against the impeccable glass, as if she was trying to sense something. Her oak-brown eyes looked down at her fingertips and a smirk played on her lips.

"We have a flight to catch."

* * *

Shaw stood still, his whole body tensing. He could feel it. He didn't know how or why he could feel that energy, but he wouldn't be surprised if everyone else felt it as well. It was strong and…commanding. Like when one came in contact with a drill sergeant for the first time in the army, you could feel the energy they produced. A one of respect and command. Shaw could feel the same exact kind of energy and he knew it wasn't coming from anyone he knew. It wasn't from Emma. It wasn't from Azazel. And it wasn't Janos. Hell, it wasn't even from when Colonel Hendry had been on Shaw's yacht.

No, this energy was unfamiliar and Shaw didn't like it. Not one bit.

"I do believe we have never met before," a thickly accented, female voice spoke, her words sharp yet smooth at the same time.

Shaw spun around to face the unknown speaker at the same time Emma and Janos stood up. He was faced with a woman from obvious Egyptian descent. She seemed to be inspecting long nails with distaste for a few seconds before turning her face up to meet his own. Shaw realized that this woman was the one with the commanding energy. She held power, and Shaw knew, this woman was one of them. She was a mutant, an attractive one at that.

"No," Shaw started, looking her up and down for a second to analyze her. "I believe we haven't," he said with a suave tone before sticking a hand out to shake her own. "The name is Sebastian Shaw. And might I ask for your's?"

The woman seemed to study his outstretched hand for a second before placing her hand delicately into his. She held a firm grip that could probably choke the life out of someone if she wished, causing Sebastian to become increasingly interested. He wondered what her gifts were. What she could do. What she could accomplish.

"I would say, but I believe your little pet knows them already," she said, not breaking eye contact but referring to Emma. Shaw looked over his shoulder to see Emma Frost holding a glare upon her pretty features. Emma could be considered his pet. She did what he wished for and in return, he gave her what her heart desired (most of the time). It was a relationship that worked and he wasn't really in the mood for causing distress in it. It's what made Emma so loyal.

The woman retracted her hand and placed it with its partner behind her back, holding an almost-regal posture. "But if you must know immediately, I go by Aeon or Irene Holt. Any other name is reserved strictly for my brother or anyone I trust. And you, mister Shaw, are not someone I trust at this point in time."

A curve of his lips showed that Shaw was interested in this woman. She knew her stuff, as he could already tell. She knew not to trust just yet and she knew how to hold someone's attention. Interesting.

"Well," Shaw started, grabbing a champagne glass and motioning it towards the woman, "my dear, can I interest you in a glass of champagne?"

Shaw's brown eyes watched as Aeon's lips curled wickedly and a dark gleam entered her eyes. It was almost as if they had just signed a deal. A mental contract of sorts. Stating that they were on allied terms at the moment and would share their ideas over a glass.

"Of course."


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: I hope this is an okay chapter! I really tried on it but I'm not sure if it's good enough. Let me know, maybe?_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, the movies, the comics, or anything Marvel owns. I simply own Aeon/En Neheh Ankh/Irene Holt and A'alp_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

* * *

Charles couldn't believe it. This mutant, Sebastian Shaw was his name, was creating quite the storm. Never in his entire life had Charles actually heard of a mutant taking the CIA's attention almost completely. Well, perhaps that was a bit dramatic. It was taking the attention of a few agents. Namely, Agent Moira Mactaggert. She was a woman with no abilities whatsoever (except for her ability to utterly destroy stereotypes set on women). She was human and did not once care about Raven's nor Charles' own abilities. She simply wished to stop Shaw and his group of mutants. It caused respect to flourish in Charles' chest.

Charles was a mutant with the abilities of a haunted man. He remembered the days when he could hear only the voices in his head. The screams and cries of pain. The torture that others like him had to endure that he hadn't. He found it unfair for those around him. They hurt every day and night, while he lived a life many would kill for even as humans. He found it unfair and while he wished that those who had harmed other mutants were to get what they deserved soon, he knew that human and mutant co-existence was essential in living a good life. There was peace...well there had been peace.

Now, Sebastian Shaw was destroying that peace. Charles knew he had to convince the mutant to stop, as he needed to ensure peace between the two races. Plus, perhaps this Shaw man was in pain and needed help. Perhaps he had just stumbled and lost his way. Now, he just needed a little bit of help and guidance. And that's why Charles was currently on a boat, owned by the Coast Guard, accompanied by Agent Mactaggert, and Raven.

He just hoped they reached Shaw in enough time.

* * *

He would not fit. Sebastian Shaw would not become a horseman. And in fact, Aeon was tempted to slit the man's throat here and now.

"You know, Irene," Shaw started, standing up from his lounging position on the couch. "May I call you Irene?" a sarcastic tone entered his voice. "I have immensely enjoyed this conversation…" he said, grabbing a glass and a bottle of rum.

"But I don't enjoy eavesdroppers," Shaw finished, a deadly look on his age features.

Aeon sent a glare to the man, her eyes darkening. "Who said anyone was listening in to our conversation, mister Shaw?"

Sebastian Shaw strode over, past the bar, and made a sharp whistling sound. Suddenly, a creature of mutant caliber appeared out of thin air, a BAMF resonating through the air. He wore a black suit and dark dress shoes, as if ready to attend a funeral. The tone of his skin was a pure red, as like that of a blood sun. His hair was black and greasy looking, something Aeon found slightly revolting. A scar stretched over his left eye, trailing from his hair line down to underneath his cheek bone. A sculpted growth of hair resided on his chin. And the thing most noticeable about him was his…spaded tail like that of a demon.

And that tail was wrapped around the neck of a struggling woman. The neck of…A'alp.

Fury started to build in heaps inside of Aeon, an emotion she hasn't felt in millennia. It caused the blood in her to boil, the feeling of the red liquid life in her veins causing a heaving of her chest. This…this…man! Did he really think he could threaten a god?! Did he really think he could take someone precious to the twin of En Sabah Nur?! This man. Oh, he was to die a very slow and painful death.

"You," Aeon started, her voice deeper than ever. It sounded like there were…multiple layers to it. "You, Sebastian Shaw, have made a grievous mistake."

"Take one step, Irene, and this little gem's neck is snapped in one go," Shaw said, holding his now half-full glass of rum as if his life wasn't currently in danger.

"I don't think you _understand_ ," Aeon spoke, the darkness in her eyes expanding. There was little to no white visible now. "You should not threaten someone like me."

"And who exactly is someone like you, miss Holt?"

"A-"

"Herr Doktor," a German accent filled the area, a newcomer.

Aeon turned, the blackness in her eyes fading and the whites becoming visible again. But the struggling breaths of A'alp threatened the whites of her eyes. They were to be consumed by blackness once this newcomer showed his face and was dealt with. And due to him interrupting her execution of Sebastian Shaw, this German man would suffer a brutal fate but less intense. He had not threatened a loved one yet and did not deserve the same fate.

Her eyes scanned and took in a man who currently wore… _what was it? ah_ , a wetsuit! He wore a black wetsuit and his body was drenched in water, probably from having swam in the dark waters below to get onto the boat. He had a clean-shaven face with messy, wet, brown hair upon his head. His ice blue eyes told of pain and vengeance. And those eyes were directed at Shaw. He was tall, probably a good six inches taller than Aeon. But that was not what mattered. What mattered was using this man as a distraction and getting A'alp to safety.

"Little Erik Lensherr," Shaw spoke, now giving Aeon a name to place with the face. Her eyes darted between the two, her fingers twitching in anticipation. All she needed was to have some form of distraction towards Shaw, to the point where she could grab the red-man's tail and drain him of enough life force. Perhaps just kill him. Yes, that sounded much more appealing.

She took one step to her left, a fatal mistake on her part.

A hard and sharp grasp on her neck elicited a sudden gasp from her. The hand holding her neck was not that of flesh. No, it was…made of diamond. Diamond was one of the most durable gemstones known to man. And a damned diamond hand was wrapped around her neck, squeezing a bit too tightly. She would not be able to drain any life, as Emma's ability to change form caused her to not only be protected from mental attacks (as A'alp had mentally informed her earlier), but it also protected her from the draining of life.

"He's here to kill you." Emma said, her voice tight and angered. Aeon had to roll her eyes. This telepath was awfully loyal. And while Aeon commended loyalty, this girl was only just a pet. A disposable pet. "And she's trying to kill Azazel."

Aeon felt the grip on her neck tighten, gritting her teeth in the process. She only needed to reach the mind of this 'Azazel' and she could force him to drop A'alp. But with the suffocating grip on her neck, the diamond fingers digging into her trachea and esophagus, she was having a hard time concentrating. And Emma was impossible to control, so Aeon felt the smallest bit of panic. Not for herself, never. She was a god, she could never be bested by those below her. She felt panic for A'alp, her closest friend after thousands of years. She could not lose her.

The man, Erik, collapsed to the ground, grasping his head in pain. The distraction she…

A high pitched scream echoed in her head, like that of a banshee. It reverberate throughout her cranium, causing insurmountable pain to be unleashed upon her. Aeon could deal with a lot of things. She could deal with a sword through the stomach, as she'd just grab whatever person closest to her and drain them of life. It would heal all of her wounds and make her a little bit younger depending on who she drained. But this? This…this sound in her head? The sound that felt like a set of claws was tearing apart at her brain and bone. Like a set of teeth was ripping into her flesh. This was pain she could not defend against.

"What kind of a greeting is that..." Shaw started, his eyes trained on a pained Erik Lensherr. The two of them had a history, that much was blatantly obvious. "...after all these years?"

And just as suddenly as the pain came, it vanished. And Erik Lensherr threw a dagger he had right at Shaw. Of course, instead of hitting the bastard, Emma Frost caught it. She then dropped Aeon for a second. Aeon watched as Emma straightened and twisted in the air, causing Erik Lensherr to fly through the air and overboard.

She then picked Aeon up and grabbed her neck tightly again, her flesh still made of diamond.

"Emma," Aeon could hear Shaw say, his voice right next to her now.

"We don't harm our own kind." Shaw said, a ' _tsk_ ' sound coming off of his lips. And Aeon wanted to call… _what was the term again? oh yeah_ , she wanted to call bull.

The grasp on her neck was still hard and Aeon was running out of time to get her and A'alp out of here. Then, they could plot Shaw's demise-

"And I did tell you, Irene," Shaw started, walking around Emma to look directly at Aeon, his lips curving into a smirk. "If you took one step, her neck would be snapped."

A sense of dread and panic filled Aeon's body, causing her to thrash about in Emma's grasp. She was a damned _god_! She was being humiliated by…by some low class mutants! They were practically humans with their parlor tricks! And she, En Neheh Ankh, was being humiliated by them! She was being…put down to their damned level! Her twin would simply kill her now if he saw her. She'd be deemed 'useless' and honestly, she was feeling it.

Her eyes filled with blackness and she stretched out a hand, grasping Shaw by the neck. If there had been one thing she and her brother also had in common, it would be their ability in hand-to-hand combat. Baal had taught them well. "Harm her, Shaw, and I send you to hell with the amount of energy I have."

"Dear, I absorb energy, it's my ability to contain it," he said, a suave tone in his voice and a smirk on his face.

"Then I'll just absorb every single drop of it," she said, a strained smirk on her face.

A _SNAP_ resonated in Aeon's ears.

Her eyes found themselves normal again.

A connection in her mind slithered away, leaving only one left.

And only two people mattered in her life.

Suddenly, crippling pain shattered into Aeon. Like a piece of her heart suddenly decided to wither and die. She found the breath in her lungs ceasing to exist. She found her legs weakening. She found all muscles in her body unresponsive. She found…she found only emptiness in her. And she knew that if it had been her brother instead of A'alp, Aeon knew that she would have lost her mind and killed the entire world. A'alp she could learn over the years to live without, but her brother? She could never live knowing her twin was dead. They were one and the same. They came into the world together and they sure as hell would not leave it.

But right now, Aeon needed to focus on killing every single person on this damned boat. Except for the man, Erik, if he was to make another appearance. Perhaps she would spare him. Everyone else though would be dead.

Bright lights flashed suddenly onto the yacht and a ship horn sounded, Aeon grateful for the light facing her back instead of her face. Whoever was here was her saving grace. Now, she could kill Shaw.

"Now it's a party," Sebastian Shaw said, a twisted smile on his features as he turned towards the source of the lights.

"This is the US Coast Guard," a man said over a blaring PA system. "Do not attempt to move your vessel. Stay where you are."

Aeon couldn't help but roll her eyes. These humans were up against something more than just some amateurs. From the earlier display of mister Erik Lensherr, Aeon thought it safe to guess that Shaw had been at this game for a long time. And the sounds of small, speedboats hurtling through the water towards them did not give Aeon any comfort.

"They have a telepath," Aeon heard Emma say, as if she wasn't surprised. But the look on Shaw's face proved that they had not been expecting it. Another telepath? Aeon was excited now. She knew telepathy was one of the abilities her brother had yet to acquire. She needed a host for him and getting him one with that certain ability would be all they needed to rule again.

* * *

Charles couldn't find Shaw. He couldn't find his mind anywhere!

"I've lost Shaw," he said, his blue eyes scanning the water and the yacht in the distance. He didn't understand. "I've lost Shaw." this time more to himself.

"There's something blocking me," he said to Moira and the agent. Charles could feel it. It felt like a barricade was preventing him from pushing into Shaw's mind. "This has never happened to me before," he said quickly, adjusting himself. He felt the pressure of his index and middle finger pressing into his temple, as if he was subconsciously trying to reach further and push down the barricade. He then realized it.

"I-I think there's someone like me on that ship," he realized, a sense of wonder and excitement building inside of him.

"Like you?" Moira questioned, clearly confused by his wording.

"I'm sorry," he apologized firstly, "a telepath." He then pulled his fingers down from his temple and held onto the railing. Excitement was the only word that could describe what he was feeling at the moment. "This is incredible," he said, truly meaning it, "I could actually feel her inside my mind." he said, a sinking realization. He would be of no use now.

"I'm very sorry, but I don't think I'm going to be of much help to you, tonight." he explained, truly sorry. "You're on your own."

Charles watched as the speedboats traveled across the water quickly. Sprays of ocean water was kicked up by the motorized water-vehicles. Charles couldn't explain it and he didn't want to. There was something else on that boat that made him wary of who they were up against at the moment. It wasn't the telepath, as he could feel most of her power from their mental encounter. But there was someone else on that boat that made Charles want to reconsider ever coming. For the forces felt…deadly. Like anger and pain was consuming it to the point of absolute fury.

And then, the whirlwinds came.

"Oh my god," Charles whispered, his eyes widening at the pure size of the monstrous mini-tornados, produced at the palms of one man.

"Jesus."

He watched in horror as the winds completely annihilated the speedboats, flipping them over and tossing them clean into the air.

"Get inside," the one agent said quickly, ushering for both Charles and Moira to enter into the ship, instead of staying out on the deck.

* * *

Aeon could feel the grip of Emma loosening. She could feel the little diamond fingers each easing on tension. Aeon just needed her to ease up a little bit more…

Remembering a tactic her twin had taught her, Aeon grabbed Emma's wrist and caught the woman by surprise. Aeon twisted to her left, as Emma had her left hand around her neck. Pulling the arm with her, Aeon grasped Emma's shoulder with her right hand. Hearing small cracks in the bone as she pulled her left arm behind her, Aeon smirked. She would need to thank her twin.

This series of actions caught Shaw's and his other accomplice's attention.

"Be thankful I'm leaving her alive, Shaw," Aeon said, a part of her feeling gracious. She pulled Emma with her as she neared the railing of the yacht. Yelps of pain came from the blonde mutant and Aeon rolled her eyes. Pathetic. "But know that I will come back. I will find you, Shaw, no matter where you go. And I will kill each and every member of your group. And then I will kill you. How and when? Well, you'll just have to set up an appointment with me."

She then threw Emma at Shaw, watching in amusement as the telepath stumbled awkwardly. Aeon then turned quickly and climbed the railing, diving in enough time to avoid…anchor chains soaring through the air.

Aeon felt the water around her quicker than she had anticipated. The water was cold, chilling really. It felt like she was in a barrel and people were sticking blades into her flesh. She had no escape. Aeon had never really liked the water. It had always been too…suffocating for lack of a better word. And for years, it had been the monster in her nightmares. But her twin had calmed those nightmares. Made her stronger. Forced her to rid of her fears. And she had. But being confronted by the water once more was…not what she wanted.

Aeon pulled her arms and kicked her legs in the dark liquid, finding herself slow and lame. Little air bubbles escaped her lips and her dark eyes watched with blurred vision. She didn't like seeing those little bubbles. They reminded her that precious air that kept her heart beating was leaving her for no reason. She needed to move faster, or else she would drown.

Finding the strength in her to swim, Aeon propelled herself towards the surface. And just in the nick of time. A large submarine came barreling through the water just underneath her.

Aeon felt air as soon as she broke the water's surface. A large gulp of air was all she took before having to avoid being hit by…Erik? He seemed to be being pulled by the submarine. Or, he was trying to pull the submarine. Now that…that was interesting.

Her dark eyes trailed the figure who seemed so intent on raising that sub from the water. There was a reason he had tried to kill Shaw. There was a reason he was trying to lift the vessel. There was a reason he was still trying even after he had lost. And En Neheh Ankh would figure it out. She never liked being left in the dark.

Suddenly a presence was prodding at the edges of her mind, causing Aeon to suddenly clear her thoughts of anything and everything. She pushed away at the unknown presence and cast them from her safe haven. That was her signal. It was time to leave and not with that ship. She had to go back to New York. She had to pack her things and make plans. Shaw was number one on her hit-list. And she needed to get a head start.

* * *

Charles had found and calmed Erik. But there was one more mind he had to calm, this one far more angry than Erik's already vengeful one. Charles knew that this mind was one of pain, hurt, anger, rage, and suffering. He knew that minds like those were the most dangerous ones. And he needed to find it before someone else did.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you guys for all of the continued support! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Even if it's just a 'cool story, bro' it still makes me feel good that there are people who enjoy my sub-par writing skills. Constructive criticism is always welcome! Especially when pertaining to Erik's character._

 _Also, is there anyone out there who enjoys this story enough to help make a cover? If not, that's cool, but if there is, just PM me! :)_

 _Guest : Thank you so much for the reviews on each chapter so far! That literally made my day :)_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men movies or comics, and I don't own mutants. I only own Aeon/En Neheh Ankh/Irene Holt and well...A'alp is kinda dead but I still own her soul!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

A woman strode into CIA headquarters with a purpose. Circular, black sunglasses covered her eyes. She wore a black blazer jacket, which was fit for women specifically. It only had a single button and it was connecting the two sides currently. Underneath was a white blouse that was fairly plain, as the woman found clothes that had too much accessories to be inhibiting. She wore a black pencil skirt, the skirt touching just under her knees. Nylons covered her legs and pointed-toe heels covered her feet. Overall, she looked ready for business.

And Aeon was in the CIA facility for one reason only. To do business.

The five-thousand-plus old mutant strode calmly up to the reception desk, knowing full well what she had to do. She had felt the touch of someone trying to enter her mind once more. But the reach must have been phenomenal as she couldn't sense it from being near. And it was the same mind from Miami. It was the same damned presence. Aeon took a breath and calmed herself mentally. She needed to be calm or else everything she had worked for in the past few hours would be thrown down to hell. That was something she couldn't have.

She arrived at the half-circle counter and folded her arms upon it. She leaned over lightly, just enough to accentuate her breasts. It was the key to every man's mind now. If he was distracted, it would make the control much easier and his death much quieter. And it would certainly grab his attention.

"Excuse me?" Aeon said, her voice higher than normal. It annoyed her to no end and caused her throat to itch, but no one would trust a woman with a thick accent and deep voice. Not in today's society.

"Yes?" the guard asked, his voice trailing slightly as his eyes found their target. Aeon rolled her eyes behind her glasses, but plastered a faux smile on her painted-red lips.

"Yes, I was just wondering if I could have level-five clearance?" she asked, as if it was the easiest and most normal thing to ask for. It wasn't.

The man seemed to snap from his daze and pig-headedness. He cocked a dark and bushy eyebrow, his head tilting in turn. "Uh, ma'am, that's not possible," he said, dumbfounded, "you have to be a member of the CIA to have that level of clearance and frankly, I've never seen you here before."

Aeon laughed and pulled her sunglasses off. Her eyes were closed for a second as she laughed. But when she opened them, they were terrifying to the man. The eyes of Aeon were simply black. No scleras, no irises, no pupils. It was as if they had been swallowed up by the black abyss. And the guard staring into her eyes was exactly what she needed. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" she said, adding a mocking endearment. "Because I'm fairly certain that I have level-five clearance, as Agent Irene Holt."

The guard's eyes were consumed by the same black abyss. He was not in control any longer. The man turned towards his prehistoric-looking computer and typed a few things in, as if searching for something but instead installing something. A sound of a printer running was the only indication of what he had just done. He turned and grabbed what seemed to be an ID badge. It held Aeon's facial features, though she looked normal. On it, it said, 'Irene Holt. Level-5 Clearance'.

"My apologies, Agent Holt," the man's voice sounded mechanical, monotonous.

"That's no problem," Aeon smirked, placing her sunglasses over her eyes once more before reaching out to grab the ID badge. "But you," she said, her voice deepening suddenly and layering as well, "you're a problem."

She grabbed his hand and allowed her abilities to manifest. An inky black…substance was conjured and Aeon dug her nails into the man's hand and wrist. The substance then traveled through the crescent-shaped cuts and could be seen traveling through the man's veins. In a second, the black substance seemed to be traveling back and it escaped the man's body through the cuts once again. This time it traveled up Aeon's arm and disappeared.

She took the ID badge and watched as the guard slumped over and eventually fell from his rolling-chair, dead as can be. "Sorry, it wasn't anything personal," she said, walking away and to the secure doors. As she slid her ID badge in and opened the door, she turned and her voice was filled with venom. "It's just that, well, you're _human_."

* * *

Charles was contemplating what to do. He wanted to find one specific mutant, but he also needed to find the ones who were closest. The mutant he wanted to find was in Virginia, around CIA headquarters. That was fairly close, only an hour or so drive. But Charles wasn't sure if he had time for an hour drive (two if you count there and back) and a potential 'no' to their cause. They had had quite a few of those already. There was one mutant near them, in the Richmond suburbs, which was only a half-an-hour drive. If Charles remembered the name correctly, the young mutant was named Michelangelo or something along those lines.

"Charles," Moira's voice broke Charles from his contemplation, a worried edge to her voice, "you might want to take a look at this."

Charles stood from his chair, brushing down his sweater and pants. He then strode over to the small tv they were provided with at the covert base. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the bright, black and white images on the screen. But he suddenly wished he didn't look.

"Forty-eight have now been confirmed dead after today's attack on the CIA headquarters. There are still reports coming in of more corpses but those have yet to be confirmed," the news broadcaster stated, holding his microphone close to his mouth. "Each victim is found with some form of a cut or scratch but that's it. Their bodies are…" the man pauses for a second as if trying to understand what has just happened, "their bodies have been drained in some fashion."

"Jesus Christ," Moira muttered beside him, a hand placed over her mouth.

Charles was just as disturbed and taken by surprise. Why would someone kill that many innocent people? And who exactly was capable of leaving practically no mess? Was it Shaw?

The news broadcaster placed a finger to an earpiece and turned his head a little as if to hear better. He then gasped a little but nodded quickly, turning his head back to the camera. "I have just gotten word that a level-five area of the CIA's base was infiltrated and completely destroyed. The room was in complete disarray except for one folder, titled," the man tried to remember for a second then realized what it was, "it was titled 'Shaw, Sebastian'."

"She knows how to target, I'll give her that," a voice that belonged to the one and only, Erik Lensherr, stated.

Charles turned away from the broadcast and sent the man, who had become a friend of sorts, a questioning glance. " _She?_ "

"It _wasn't_ Shaw?" Moira questioned at the same time.

Erik sighed, as if he was dealing with dumb oafs. "There was a woman, the night Charles…helped me," he said, albeit begrudgingly. "Emma was in her diamond form, holding her by the neck. She was nearly suffocating her. And they said something about if she moved," he paused to remember, "they would snap someone's neck."

"So this woman isn't with Shaw," Moira deduced, her mind a bit slow after the event that they had been watching. "She's against him."

Charles could understand that. Threaten someone you love and actually kill them, then revenge is sure to be afoot. "But why kill that many innocent people?" that was his question. He didn't understand the logic behind it.

"To ensure no one sees her face and lives to tell?" Moira questioned, her hands on her hips as she tried to understand the situation.

Erik stood silent, Charles noticed. And it was a silence of understanding.

"She is taking out her anger on those around her until she finds Shaw," Erik said, his voice laced thick with understanding. Charles knew that that's how the mutant had coped for a while. He also knew it was the wrong way to go about things, but one couldn't really change the mind of someone in pain. Nor could he tell them what was right and what was wrong. People in pain were not able to hear or see reason until vengeance was complete.

"Then that makes me question," Moira started, a confused look on her face, "if she is this angry, how did she kill these people so cleanly? I always though the more anger you had, the messier it is. There's not a single drop of blood and some people don't even have marks on them."

"She's not just angry," Charles said, "she's livid."

"And she has done this before," Erik finished for the telepath, the two thinking along the same lines. They didn't know when or where she had done it, but a mutant with anger couldn't kill this cleanly. It had to be an event they had done before and this woman had done it multiple times by the looks of it.

"Well," Moira started, placing her hands on her hips, a concerned look on her face, "we either let her go until after you two return from your last recruit, or we get her instead."

Erik was obviously not fond of waiting any longer for recruiting. He wanted the whole process to be done with so that they could focus on Shaw. "We can deal with her later. Shaw is our priority."

"But this mutant just killed forty-eight people, maybe more, without an issue! Shouldn't we be the least bit concerned?" Moira questioned, stress showing in her forehead.

"Shaw had killed more and has gotten away with it for years. He is our priority," Erik said, a tone of finality in his voice. There was no arguing with him now. Charles and Moira both knew that.

But Charles could sense it in himself. He could sense the power the woman held when he touched her mind. He remembered the way she pushed him away. He remembered the extreme emotions she felt. He knew she needed help. And perhaps she wanted Shaw dead, but Charles just knew that he could direct her onto a less violent path. He knew he could.

"Erik," Charles started, scratching his chin lightly, "I do believe that we should find this woman. And, I know, she's a bit farther away than Michelangelo and would provide perhaps a setback in getting to Shaw if we find a lead, but, couldn't she be worth it? I mean, she's already against Shaw."

Erik held a look of contemplation and confliction. Charles could practically feel the conflict raging on in Erik's head. His logic was waging against his pain-filled heart. He knew that Erik wanted his vengeance as soon as possible and wouldn't let an opportunity slip once more. He also knew that Erik understood how horribly outmatched they were and an extra mutant who knew how to control their powers was simply a way of getting stronger and maybe outmatching Shaw.

"Fine," Erik concluded, his voice coming out in a huff of exasperation. "We'll find her, convince her to join, and drive straight back here. But if we get any intel on Shaw while on the way, we ditch her and head straight for Shaw. Deal?" Erik said, stretching his hand out in a form of agreement. Charles took his hand and shook without a second thought.

"Deal," he agreed, a small smile lighting up his features. "And thank you, my friend."

* * *

Darkness. All Aeon could see was the inky darkness that inhabited her body. She welcomed it though. She welcomed it with the open arms that she used to welcome her brother home with. Her twin would come back from conquering and she would stride over to him, slap him for taking too long, then hug him. The two of them had been ones who did not display emotions much. They were gods, they couldn't risk weaknesses to be exposed. There was always someone who wanted to see the downfall of a god. And the best way to see that was to find their weakness.

Aeon had been her brother's greatest weakness, and him her's (though they would never admit that). They were twins, they could feel each other no matter what. And right now, Aeon was trying to find her brother in the void surrounding her. They had the connection that many spoke about. The one that only babes who shared the same womb could have. Her and her twin held that connection. And even when they were…hibernating, for lack of a better word, they could still feel the connection.

Aeon wished to see her brother again, to find some form of solace that she was not alone. Alone. That word had scared her for thousands of years. She was a god, yes, but even gods have fears. Her one fear (after getting over the childish fear of deep water) was of isolation. She knew now how humans were so terrified of being alone. That was the reason civilizations were standing today. No one liked being alone their entire lives. Men craved contact from another and that was fact. Mutants were not exceptions to that rule.

After having lived with either her twin or A'alp for her entire existence, Aeon found loneliness frightening. It was the reason she clung to the warmth of her brother when Baal had died. It was the reason she helped save A'alp's life all those years ago. It was the reason she was searching for her brother's somewhat conscious mind in the gallows of her own. It was difficult and painful, but Aeon didn't want to be alone like she was. She had no one right now and she felt threatened by that. And gods were not supposed to feel threatened.

Aeon subdued her thoughts and felt her body relax as she merged into the darkness. She could feel a physical change occur, but she dared not look. Her true form was not something she enjoyed looking at or showing, as her brother was the only one who had told her it was perfect. Only he had the rights to look at her true physical form. So, she ignored the want to look down at her hands and legs, instead standing from her cross-legged position on the black ground. She was trapped in her mind for now and her actual physical being was stuck defenseless in her home. It was one of the ways she could be found vulnerable.

"Brother?" Aeon called out into the void, her voice echoing through the abyss surrounding her. Her voice held a multiple-layer quality to it, something that only happened when she let go of restraint or when she was in the limbo state of which she was in now. The quality of her voice always made her sound more powerful than she already was and she found it invigorating. No one would stand against her should she speak in that tone of voice. Why did it consist of many layers though? Well, it was quite a simply explanation. After years and years of taking control of new bodies, she would find herself stuck with that person's voice sometimes, as a side effect. But she had done it so many times that she found a way to push the original voice down to fit it to her own voice. Then, when unleashing her power or in the limbo state, the multiple voices from her lifetime combined into a multi-layered sound. It was quite intriguing really.

Aeon stood calmly, her arms crossed over her bosom. A look of worry and slight fear was beginning to bloom on her features after receiving no answer. Her brother, no matter the state of his consciousness, would always answer one way or another. And he would do so quickly to ensure Aeon did not reach one of her…moods. But Aeon waited. And waited. And she waited some more. Time was irrelevant in the space she was mentally in. While time stood still in the abyss, time outside continued on. She could have been sitting there for hours, yet not feel as thought time had passed. It was something she was trying to understand, as she didn't like her abilities to be in control of her. She just needed more time to practice.

"Brother!" Aeon shouted, her blackened eyes widening ever-so-slightly. She felt fear start to grip at her heart, something that had not happened since A'alp's untimely demise. Fear was not supposed to be able to take hold of her! And yet she allowed it to anyways! She couldn't help it! Should her brother be hurt or incarcerated in any way…Aeon knew that a whole country could potentially be at risk for destruction. She would ensure it. "Brother, answer me!" she called out into the abyss, a string appearing in front of her. It represented the connection between her and En Sabah Nur. She would occasionally conjure it up with her mind to physically pull.

She tugged on the thick string, her hands shaking lightly. Why was she so unstable? She shouldn't be freaking out like this! She should be calm and collected. Yes, calm and collected. Her brother was fine. He was safe in his sarcophagus in the Nile Valley. He was safe and unharmed. The barrier put up by Pestilence was supposed to hold for as long as Aeon and Apocalypse wished. And she wished for it to be sealed for a little more than two thousand years.

Aeon's hands ceased their shaking when the string shook strongly. So strongly that it vibrated with an intense force. A rare sigh of relief exited Aeon as she felt serenity take over. Her heart no longer palpitated, and her breathing was steady and strong. She would need to get her emotions in check before her brother awakened, as he would not be a fan of her ability to freak out quickly. He would need her strong and ready to fight, knowing who was the priority. Him.

Aeon recognized those thoughts in her head as not her own and she scowled lightly. When in this form, the two communicated through their minds because of the connection. When physically together, they couldn't do such a thing. Aeon had to be either asleep or in her limbo state. Apocalypse had to be asleep or awake. Either way, it only worked when in this form. But she did not appreciate the words put in her head by her twin. She really didn't appreciate it.

"You'll pay for that," she muttered, acting much like a child.

It was another side effect of her abilities and for depending on her twin for so long. She thought that she had her emotions in check, she had thought that for thousands of years. But in reality, she did not. She easily angered and was quick to lapse into inability to give a good judgement. She found it difficult to control her emotions at points but she blamed it on the hormones that still cycled in her body (periods for five-thousand-plus years really sucked). But deep down she knew it was not that. Deep down, she knew her mental state was deteriorating. Her brother had kept her from recognizing the signs, but without him or A'alp, she found it harder to ignore. But that was the price of her abilities. She had to lose some to take some. Everyone's mutant abilities had consequences and Aeon didn't want to face her's.

Taking a deep breath and satisfied with her brother's presence, Aeon opened her mouth to speak.

But someone beat her to it.

Someone she had tried to avoid.

Someone that had gone knocking on the door to her mind.

Someone that was playing ding-dong-ditch with the devil.

* * *

 _A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! A bit longer and a little more revealing on Aeon's character. What do you think about her? About her abilities? About her (seemingly unhealthy?) relationship with her twin? About the side effects of her abilities?_

 _Would love to hear your thoughts!_

 _Love,_

P❤


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N: Honestly, y'all are the best readers ever! So much support already and I couldn't be more thankful! Here's the next chapter, my little mints, and a bit is revealed about what Aeon has done while in this present time (though idk how I feel about this chapter so apologies if it's awful ^~^)._

 _ **beachchick3** : Thank you so much for reviewing each chapter so far! That means a lot! And thank you for your kind words! :)_

 _ **littlemsstrawberry** : To address your question, yes that pairing will make an appearance. Though it will have some moments of fluff, both are not really the ones for those kinds of moments all the time. It will be a difficult pairing to accomplish, but hopefully it will work. I'm still trying to work out some things with it. And then there will be a very…hated and questionable pairing that I have wanted to put in this story but I am afraid of the flack I will get for it. _

_**SakuraHerem** : Ha! Thank you for that, that made my day! And yeah, that will be touched upon later. Also, her abilities are quite powerful. I mean she can kill people with one touch (much like Rogue) but she can manifest death and life. It's like the whole idea of "You take some only to give some". She is able to control her abilities that really affect her mind. It's very mental and I'll go more in depth on it later as the book progresses. But for a summary, its like every time she kills or takes the life or gives life from/to someone, she loses a little bit of her sanity. It's fairly difficult to briefly explain but I couldn't make her all-powerful and she needed a weakness when given such an immense ability. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or mutants. I simply own Aeon/En Neheh Ankh/Irene Holt and A'alp. Happy? Also, disclaimer for if this chapter is bad. It wouldn't come to me for the longest time and when it did, it rushed out in a jumble. So apologies if I got characters OOC._

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

Charles couldn't help but bounce up and down in mild excitement, he was to meet a mutant who was much more controlled than he and Erik. While she was a bit of a murderer, Charles knew that she must have had good reason. Plus, her talents were extraordinary. Forty-eight men dead? No evidence? It was that morbid fascination that made Charles a bit excited.

"You're rather excited for meeting a murderer," Erik drawled out lazily, his sunglasses covering his eyes. Charles look over at the taller man and noticed that he was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing for the past few days. A black turtleneck, grey slacks, and a brown leather jacket. Charles began to wonder if that was all the mutant had in his wardrobe.

Charles gave a little scoff, rolling his eyes at his friend. "I'm not excited about that little fact, Erik. I'm excited because this woman is in more control than you and I. And I have to say, we're both fairly old to the younger generation and we haven't even touched the beginnings of our abilities. So imagine how old this woman should be!" he explained in his British tone, excitement lacing his voice. He was only thirty-years old, but he was considered old by Raven, who looked eighteen but was actually twenty-seven. And he couldn't even get started on the amount of times one of their recruits thought the two of them 'old'.

"I don't think you're giving me any credit," a thickly accented, female voice said suddenly. Charles jumped a little, surprised this woman managed to startle him. He was usually able to tell when someone was near, as their thoughts were quite loud. But this woman's mind was silent. Dead silent. "And I would like to think I look younger than I truly am."

Charles looked at the woman, happy his sunglasses were covering his eyes. He had to admit that the woman was stunning in an exotic sense, and while she was probably considered gorgeous to most, Charles didn't exactly think she fit his…tastes in women. Now, a woman like Moira Mactaggert…no Charles, he thought, immediately dispelling that thought from his head. She had brutally rejected him one too many times. He needed to focus on the woman who was leaning against the doorframe of her small home that looked more like a shack than a house, not how attractive the CIA agent was.

"What do you want?" the woman questioned bluntly, all sarcasm draining from her voice and face. She was someone who got to business, good. "I've got things to do and I'm not even quite sure why I opened the door. If you're going to tell me how God is here for me, then you might as well walk away from this door now. Already sent two kids crying to their mothers about that," she said, her voice uncaring and Charles winced slightly. Perhaps this woman was not a good choice. Of course she isn't! She murdered forty-eight people, Charles! Think for once!

"Irene, correct?" Charles heard his friend ask from beside him. He sent a cocked eyebrow. Not even he knew the woman's name.

And clearly the woman wasn't fond of this. "Yeah, Irene Holt is the name, why?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest, a suspicious look in her oak eyes. She probably didn't remember Erik.

Charles nearly did a double-take. Irene Holt? The Irene Holt? The woman who single-handedly served each and every man on her thesis council their egos on a silver plate? The woman who wrote the thesis that changed so many ideals? That Irene Holt?

"Erik Lens-"

"Sorry, but, uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but are you the same Irene Holt that wrote the thesis Man and its Enemy: Isolation?" he questioned, his voice stuttering slightly. He was far too excited.

The woman shifted a little uncomfortably, her eyes rolling a little. "That would be me," she said, her voice bland and a little…exasperated perhaps? Charles couldn't tell, her mind was blocked off, which annoyed and intrigued him immensely. But those two feelings were drowned out by meeting the woman who wrote one of the best theses in the world of the twentieth-century. She had science, logic, and fact-based opinion to support her neurological claim. It was beautifully written as well, and Charles found it hard to believe that the woman in front of him was hardly older than thirty, perhaps thirty-two. Which means she was-

"Yes, I was twenty when I wrote it," she said, rolling her eyes and closing her body off even more. She was obviously not one for socializing and was being pushed out of her comfort zone. Charles then stared wide-eyed at the woman, finding it amazing that she finished his thought. What if she was like him? "No, don't worry your little British head professor, I'm not able to read minds. I just can figure out what your thinking because it is distastefully written across your features quite openly. I'm talented but not that talented," she said, answering yet another of his unspoken questions. She was making him look a bit foolish if he did say so himself.

Charles could only gape slightly, too in shock by this woman's personality and ability to make him feel utterly stupid. He knew Erik was probably having a field-day next to him, his signature smirk on his face.

"Again, I'm going to ask you," she said, her voice now annoyed, " _what_ do you want?"

Charles shook his head and cleared his throat, still a bit shocked. But time was of the essence and he needed to focus. He couldn't lose his track of thought before potentially needing to leave quickly. Shaw was a shadow, ever-looming, and Charles and Erik were trying to strike. They needed to act quickly.

"We were wondering if you'd like to take down Shaw?" Erik covered for Charles, the taller man showing no emotion. But Charles knew better than to trust the face. He knew that Erik's voice was as rigid and hateful as it shouldn't be. They shouldn't be showing a bias. It might give people the wrong ideas.

Irene Holt narrowed her eyes and stared stonily at Erik, as if trying to remember. Remember his face. She then leaned back a little and smirked. "Ah, so you're the one who tried to kill Shaw," she said, recognition in her voice. "And the one who tried to lift the submarine? Interesting."

Charles cocked an eyebrow lightly, mentally questioning why this woman seemed to be taking mental notes. Why?

"It is a little hard to recognize you when wearing sunglasses and your friend is interrupting you," she said, her voice holding a chuckle of sorts. Charles couldn't tell if she was poking fun or simply making a small joke.

Charles could tell that he wasn't the only one becoming tense, Erik was too. Irene had…she had a way of putting one on edge easily. The way she spoke did not match her accent. It was like she was from a different era in time and trying to fit in by speaking like those around her. It was all pretty unnerving.

"Now…the opportunity to end Shaw," she pondered to herself, Charles wanting to make the correction.

"Technically," he started, earning a raised eyebrow from the woman, "we're not going to kill Shaw, simply try and convince him to stop."

That was humorous to the woman apparently, as she threw her head back in laughter. "Oh gods, that was funny!" she said, pretending to wipe years from her eyes. Charles cocked an eyebrow that. _Gods_? What religion was still considered polytheistic? She then let her chuckling die out before setting a look upon Charles. "Now could you please be a bit more serious? I'm not a fan of joining a team of clowns."

Charles slightly gulped, feeling his Adam's apple bob slightly. They might have just lost a potential recruit. "I wasn't kidding," Charles said, steeling his nerves and voice.

Irene's face suddenly closed off all emotion and a dark look entered her eyes. "You can't change the mind of a man like him. And if you can't end him, you're no better than him," she said, her voice lowered and dark. She then lifted her nose in the air slightly, looking down at Charles just enough to make him feel small. And looking at her standing form, Charles realized that the woman was in fact two inches taller than his five-foot-seven stature. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll actually be doing something about this little problem," she hissed, stepping back and slamming her door shut.

Well, she tried to.

Erik flipped his hand out and stopped the door in its tracks, keeping it open. The hinges or doorknob must have been metal, Charles thought, casting a look over at his tall companion. The man looked back at him, his thoughts loud and clear.

 _I'll handle this._

* * *

Erik was mildly intrigued. The woman seemed to be a lot more than she was worth, what with her inability to fend off Emma a few nights past and her insufferable attitude. Erik was in fact bored most of the time his short, telepathic companion spoke. The woman having thrown in a sarcastic remark here and there to keep Erik interested enough. But he was still bored out of his mind and impatient as all hell. They needed to be working on finding leads on Shaw! Not grabbing another mutant to babysit. And this particular one, no matter her age nor her abilities, seemed to be the one who would cause the most trouble. And she already seemingly was. Erik had had to save Charles' skin already twice. And he needed to do it again. His English friend wanted her on the team. So, Erik, as a friend, would try to convince her.

Erik watched as his friend nodded silently and walked down the pitiful walkway that seemed to be crumbling into the unkempt dirt and grass with each shiver of the wind. It was truly pathetic and Erik wondered how this woman seemed so well off physically when she was living in a metaphorical shit-hole.

"You will allow me to close my door," her venomous tone hissed quietly, enough to make Erik twitch slightly, "or so help me, I will rip every cell from your body."

Erik smirked at her threat, genuinely wondering if she could hold up on her promise. He then wiped the emotion off of his face before speaking.

"My friend did not word that correctly," he said smoothly, his hand still held up. "Nor does he realize what you and I know and want."

Erik could feel the force of the woman's push to close the door falter. He had struck a nerve or pushed a button just enough to make her reconsider. A smirk crawled maliciously at his lips but he allowed it no place.

Silence only greeted him before he watched the fading, oak brown door slowly open a little bit more. He was greeted by the woman, Irene was her name, a skeptical look on her face. Erik had to admit that she was a beautiful and well-endowed woman. He knew Charles thought that too, as even a blind man could tell. But he read her well, and the way she crossed her toned arms across her stomach showed signs of a doubtful self-conscious thinking. He wondered why a woman like her would be in such a state.

"Come inside," Irene stated, her dark eyes glued to the car that Charles was currently in. Erik only nodded, casting a glance towards the vehicle. It probably made her feel better that they talk inside where Charles couldn't see them. And honestly, it made Erik feel better too. Of course, Charles could always extend the reaches of his mind, but perhaps him not being able to physically see them made them both feel more secure.

Erik stepped into the dimly lit shack of a house, his eyes needing to extensively adjust to the lack of light. Once his pupils dilated enough to understand the different light patterns, he could see well enough in the house. The living room was small, incredibly so. It simply held a few knickknacks placed delicately on a shelf, away from the clutter of the room. The floor was a creaky, dark oak, sounds emitting from it with each step taken. Papers were scattered about it, each in a different language than the last. A singular rocking chair sat in the corner of the room, its body decaying with age. In the center of the room sat a large carpet, its strings frayed from usage. It was a deep red color, much like that of blood.

To the right of Erik stood a small kitchen. Well, it was close enough to one. It held a small refrigerator, a cramped sink, and a stove. The sparse countertops were an ugly shade of pesto green and had black marks scattered about. Scratch marks were also found. How could Erik see that much detail? If he laid down on his back, with his feet touching the wall of the living room to his left, all the way to the refrigerator, he would only have to lay down twice. It was far too cramped for his liking and he found himself growing a tad anxious. Where did this woman sleep? Did she even sleep? How did she live here?

Erik found his eyes drawn back to the knickknacks on the shelf. They were handled with care and easily the brightest things in the entire shack. They were made out of a metal that Erik knew all too well. It was gold, but not the same gold that the Nazis had made their blood money out of. No, the items seemed to be made out of pure and clean gold. Erik could just sense it in them items. As he took a closer look at them, he found them to be strange symbols. He swore they looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't place what they were. They looked…ancient.

"Does your friend know what you want?" her thickly-accented voice broke Erik from his examination. He turned to face her, her face stoic and unreadable.

"He knows, but he wishes that I do not truly want that."

"Ahh," she said, as if in understanding. "So you have a little naïve one on your side?" she more so stated than asked.

"A strong, naïve man," Erik more or less agreed. "He likes to believe that people can be good and that all they need is a little push in the right direction to understanding us."

The woman only nodded in response, turning from her spot on the carpet. Erik watched as she walked into her small kitchen, his eyes slightly narrowed. He didn't trust this woman, not like Charles seemed to be intent on accomplishing. Erik was a murderer, he knew that. He accepted that. But he had yet to kill forty-eight plus people in a matter of hours. He had only killed a few people in his lifetime.

The woman leaned on the small area of counter space she had, her nails chipping away furiously with a consistent tapping. He then concluded that she was the one responsible for the scratch marks upon the material. An interesting…development.

"So you are going to go behind his back when the time comes?" she asked suddenly, tilting her head up towards him. Erik felt his gaze narrowing even further. He did not understand nor like the tone she was holding. "You are going to betray him and his trust?" she almost hissed. It was like a sensitive spot was pushed upon unknowingly. Erik didn't like it.

"I'm not going to betray him," Erik started, locking his hands behind his back and standing tall, "I'm simply going to open his eyes to the world that surrounds mutants."

"By betraying his trust? By going behind his back and killing the man he believes he can change?" the woman questioned. It was as if she was either testing Erik or trying to get a rise out of him. Either way, he would not budge.

"By killing the man who would kill him first," Erik said simply, his gaze narrowed on the woman. However, he held an indifferent look upon his face. And he swore that he could see the slightest glimmer of a twitch of a smirk tugging at Irene's lips. It was as if she…approved and found humor in the answer.

Irene sighed and nodded her head towards the door. "You know where the exit is, so make yourself useful and use it. I will perhaps join your little Holy Crusade and I will notify you or someone you know that I am," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. But Erik could tell that this tone in her voice was synthetic. It was like she was forcing such a way to speak. It was like she was trying a little too hard. But he shook it off and only nodded his head.

He didn't bother with giving her the card that had the address of the CIA research facility. "I have a feeling you know the location of almost every facility. It's been a pleasure," he said, an almost patronizing tone to his sickly sweet voice. To be honest, he wasn't a fan of the woman, despite their somewhat shared views. She rubbed him the wrong way and while she was beautiful in her own way, she didn't appeal to the Lensherr man.

If Irene Holt had another forced response, Erik didn't hear it. He simply strode down the cracked stone walkway and to the '62 black Bentley that the CIA had so generously "donated". He was greeted with a very confused looking Charles Xavier, frown lines appearing on his forehead, showing his deep concentration and thought. Erik started the car however, and looked over to the man.

"She is perhaps the weirdest woman I have ever had the _pleasure_ of meeting."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the retreating men, En Neheh Ankh stood in her run down kitchenette. Her nails had grown significantly longer and had been tapped and scrapped to a point. She ran her fingernails against the plastic countertop, a nasty sound emitting from it. And to top it all off…

A menacing smirk was curling evilly across her lips.


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks for the continuing support! Shorter chapter here simply because I'm super busy and just trying to get a chapter out._

 _P.S. Neheh is just the nickname of En Neheh Ankh, cause I'm too lazy to always write that out in a memory sequence._

 **beachchick3** : Thanks! And same! I'm very excited for when we hit that arc of the story. I've already got a whole storyline fixed up.

 **SakuraHerem** : *evil laughter*! Ha, anyways, yeah. Sorry bout that. I was planning on making it CharlesxOC, but I decided it wouldn't quite work for how the arc is going to go. But thank you for choosing to stay with us!

 **littlemsstrawberry** : Thanks! I'm excited as well. But don't expect a ton of fluff or anything sweet. Erik can be sweet at points but Aeon is very…closed-off. Also, I don't feel like she'd be a very cuddly relationship partner xD but thanks for the support!

 _Disclaimer: X-Men ain't mine. Like at all. That ain't gonna change. At all._

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

 _Intense silence could be felt throughout the colored walls. It was an intense lack of sound that no one found comforting. No one._

 _Except for one._

 _En Neheh Ankh lounged on the couch-like furniture with a lazy smile. Her eyes were lined with the thick darkness of kohl. Her lips were a darker shade of red, a new form of lip coloring that one of her slaves had just created that morning. The jar of it was laid in a box with her other cosmetic supplies underneath her chair of sorts. Only a form of golden headdress laid upon her head, it covering the top like a hat and curving into a makeshift widow's-peak upon her forehead. It was solid gold and was only used for greatly important political discussions. And this was an extremely important political matter._

 _"You think I should become your wife?" a cocked eyebrow was the only show of Neheh's emotions. She was not showing any happiness nor any anger, and the man opposite her was obviously not sure what to think._

 _The man was older, much older, probably twice her age. At the moment, she looked around seventeen. Actually, though, she had been alive for centuries. He held a tanned face, a short stature (much like other Egyptians), and a somewhat fit body underneath his linens and gowns. His face was handsome enough, but it was a face that could not be trusted. It was one that promised great things, but once taken by it,_ _it would not let you go until you were dead._

 _"Of course," he said, his voice smooth like the combination of honey and ale. He held eyes of a muddy sand, their color glistening against the kohl that surrounded his eyes. His nose was slightly hooked and a bit large on his face. His jawline was strong and held an almost square shape. And, the woman wanted to role her eyes at the wig that sat upon his bald head with the crown of pharaoh title upon the fake hair. "We both know that you and your brother truly rule. We both know the pharaoh is simply a lie you both allow."_

 _Neheh looked directly at the man who was standing, her dark eyes slightly narrowed. He understood, she would give him that. However, it would take a lot more than easy studying to impress her into marriage. The pharaoh, Teti, was one who was many moons into his reign. He was nothing special, not by many leagues. Neheh and her brother had created dynasties, separations of time based upon rulers with common family. It was quite ingenious on Neheh's part. And this time, it was the sixth dynasty. Teti had taken up rule and he was the first of his family. That was all he had accomplished so far._

 _That and having two wives already._

 _"Is that supposed to convince me, Seheteptawy?" she asked, using the pharaoh's throne name. The one given to him by the gods and people._

 _Teti smirked and strode over to the lounging figure of En Neheh Ankh, his short figure now towering over her. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her small goblet-like cup. Inside of the cup held an ale and honey mixture that was quite expensive…for the poor. She took a sip of it, her face contorting a little in disgust. It held a bitter taste to it and she made the mental note to never let it sit when stirred together for too long._

 _She then set the cup down on the pedestal in arm's length from her. When she turned to face Teti again, she was slightly disturbed by the closeness of his face. He suddenly grasped her hands in his own, causing a look of shock to load upon her face. No one, except her brother and her personal slaves (when given permission), had the right to touch her. She was a god and this man…a peasant!_

 _She tried subtly pulling her hands away, but was only faced with an inability to do so. "Imagine the things we could do as man and wife," he said, a forcing look in his eyes. "Imagine the things we could accomplish without your brother. Imagine the lands we could conquer without your brother. Imagine the things we could create without your brother. With you as my wife."_

 _With her eyes narrowing harshly, En Neheh Ankh ripped her hands away from Teti and sat up. She grasped his lower jaw, her fingers digging into his skin harshly. "You speak words of treason, **human**. You are but a beetle compared to my brother. You are nothing but a whisp of wind compared to my brother. You are a man and he, a god. I might just have your tongue cut from your throat for your words." Her voice was venomous and showed her outrage at the pharaoh's words. _

_Teti held a look of pain, horror, and anguish on his scrunched up face. The female was applying intense pressure that could actually break a jaw if applied correctly. En Neheh Ankh was not intent on being precise however. She was in a fit of rage and seeing rage._

 _After a few minutes of practically crushing the man's lower jaw, the mutant leg to of him, watching as he crumbled to the floor. "Leave now and I will choose to perhaps forget about your traitorous words. You will continue to reign as acting ruler until my brother and I say otherwise. You will know your reign is over when your head is separated from your **worthless** shoulders."_

 _The man, groaning in immense pain, got up from his position on the floor. His hands came up to try and massage his jaw, but he immediately winced when he pressed his fingers against the spots. Bruises were already forming along his face. Another groan caused the female to hiss, "I said, **leave**."_

 _And suddenly, laughter rang out in the room._

 _Teti was laughing extremely hard, deposits the agonizing pain._

 _En Neheh Ankh's head spun towards the man with a wicked speed, indicating her confusion and unhappiness. "What in the name of Ra are you losing your head about, **maggot**?"_

 _Teti had to hunch over to try and lose his laughter, his hands clenching his knees. "They warned me you were smart," he was interrupted by laughter, "and I believed them! Ha! You're by far the dumbest women I've met! And you're considered a god? Ha!"_

 _En Neheh Ankh's eyes widened and then narrowed. What was this man going on about?_

 _" **What** are you talking about?" she hissed, her pride feeling slightly wounded. A stirring in her gut causing her to feel threatened._

 _Teti straightened, water leaking from his eyes due to the intense fit of laughter. "They told me if you refused to leave your brother, I would have to do it. I didn't expect you to, so I did it as only a backup." His voice sounded like that of a madman. The stirring in her stomach growing. Unease was filling her._

 _En Neheh Ankh had enough riddles already and grasped the neck of Teti, her voice accidentally coming out as nervous. "What are you speaking of, fool? Tell me!"_

 _The deranged look on Teti's face caused the feeling in her gut to drop. "The drink."_

 _The mutant dropped the man and immediately grabbed her cup. She felt her eyes scan_ _the content of the liquid rapidly, trying to see anything. What was in it? What was in it? Bitter. It was bitter. What is bitter? Finding frustration easily taking over, Neheh poured the contents of the cup onto the sandstone floors. Her heart must have dropped when her eyes laid upon the spilled contents. The liquid was darker than usual. And in the midst of the mix, the mutant spotted a lone seed, an isolated island in a sea. A seed she knew was not the only one._

 _"You see it, don't you? You know the feeling is not of nerves. You know what is happening. You know you are a **false god,** " Teti spoke hoarsely, his voice raspy from the abuse she had dealt him._

 _En Neheh Ankh could feel her heart rate racing. She did know what was happening. She knew what would happen should she not reach one of the most important horsemen. She and her brother called him Death, but his real name was Meneas. He had incredible talents with medicine and healing. He could fix anything in a matter of minutes. But **this**? This would not be fixed unless she ran to him. _

_Neheh left the traitor pharaoh in the room and darted through the archways and halls. Meneas was going to be in the throne room, no doubt. He always found peace there, said he could feel Horus speaking to him in the chamber. So, the feet of the mutant carried her through sandstone hallways, across the polished floors, away from the traitor. Once this was over, she would have that man's head sitting on a spear for all to see._

 _En Sabah Nur, her twin, was returning from a conquest he had set out on a full moon past. He would be nearing the Nile Valley soon, and if he got to Teti first, Neheh would not be happy. The pharaoh was her's and her's alone. No doubt, however, that her twin had already felt the betrayal, anger, and fear she was feeling. He would be spurring his men to move quicker. He would be using his abilities to get to his sister as soon as he could._

 _En Neheh Ankh turned a final corner, finding the main chamber hall to be in front of her. As she sighed in relief and slowed her steps, she felt something within her start to lose control. She had thought she had time. She was so wrong._

 _As the highest level of the forces of the twins' empire entered into the chamber room, Neheh felt her body collapse within itself. She felt her body begin to jerk around rapidly on the floor. Her eyes could only stare up, her jaw locked like a crypt. No sound escaped her frozen lips. The screams of pain and fear being locked away in her body like a mummy. She could slightly feel her back arcing over the floors, her shoulders and feet keeping her up. Pain escalated quite quickly in her body. But it was not normal pain. No, it was a burning. A burning in her…chest._

 _The mutant could feel the need for air scratching at her chest. She thought she had been breathing! She thought she had only been seized by the uncontrollable spasms of her muscles. But that also meant her lungs had been seized by those spasms. Air was not filtering into her body. Her lungs were not pumping the necessary component of life into her vital organs. She felt like she was choking. Choking on air that wouldn't go down her mouth and into her body. But she could not grasp her throat. She could not scream for help. She could do nothing but suffer in a deranged silence that would make others scream in fear._

 _The sound of a terrified roar caused Neheh to push against the feeling of death. Death. Something she never thought would occur. She was a damned god. Now, she lay on the ground in front of her throne like a worm. She was dying and she knew it. The only thing she could see was the look on her twin's terrified face. And his pained face. Neheh could not feel anything anymore. She could not feel her twin's arms holding her upper body up. She could not feel the prodding of Meneas' thin fingers. She could no longer feel that suffocating pain. And the painless state was far more favorable than the suffocation she clearly felt earlier._

 _And so, En Neheh Ankh felt her struggling cease and darkness start to cloud her blurred vision…_

Aeon woke with a start, sweat dripping from every spot available on her skin. She could feel glorious oxygen fill her lungs, a feeling she thought she had lost in that memory. And that was another thing. It was so damn vivid due to it having been a suppressed memory. A memory Aeon had tried desperately to rid her mind of. It was almost four thousand years ago. It was something she thought she had forgotten. It was something she wanted to be forgotten. Forgotten like a speck of dust in a tornado. No, instead, it was the damn tornado.

Aeon gave a groan of pain as she rubbed her head, her fingers massaging her temples. An intense pain was flooding into her head, clawing at the walls of her skull. It always happened this way. A memory would enter into her mind during her time asleep and it would take ahold of her. Usually she became paralyzed in her sleep due to the intense amount of pain caused. The reason pain occurred was very simple. She had repressed many memories in her life time. The assassination attempts, the painful moments, the feeling of loneliness, the awful feeling of losing…no, she would not think of that.

Standing up, the female mutant allowed her eyes time to adjust to the intense darkness of her small home. She had fallen asleep on the floor after some meditation. She usually fell sleep in her rocking chair, finding the rocking to be soothing to her pained mind. She knew her abilities were not the only reason for her sporadic and chronic pain. She knew that both the suppression of memories and the assassination attempts had taken a toll on her mind. The same poison had been used each time, and each time had been more traumatizing than the last. To be in political negotiations and to realize you're dying. To be at a festival and suddenly start suffocating. To be addressing agricultural concerns from her subjects to suddenly start seizing.

It was a series of horrifying memories she wished would leave her mind.

Aeon stretched her arms over her head and felt the satisfying crack of her vertebrae as they shifted with ease. A yawn escaped her lips quite distastefully too. She may be a god, but that didn't mean she could be lazy at points. It was simply a fact of life. Everyone yawned. Except for Meneas, that man never once looked tired or worked. He always looked alert and ready to…kill, or heal. Aeon never knew really.

Walking over to her shelf of artifacts, Aeon picked one up. She held the golden relic with a delicate touch, a stoic expression on her face. The relic was that of an ankh, and the top of it met at the point made by two legs of a triangle. There was no third side that created the base. It was more so an angle with an ankh in it. It was the symbol her brother had been given. It was the relic her brother had cherished and protected with his life. Before he went into a deep sleep two millennia ago, he had gifted it to her.

She had not lost sight of it ever since. And she never would.

Taking a deep sigh, Aeon lightly trailed her fingers down the golden token. She closed her eyes and felt a gnawing loneliness starting to eat at her. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of Virginia. Shaw was not here and once he was dead, Aeon would ensure her brother woke one way or another. She knew who she would get to be his host. She just needed to find him. But finding him would not prove difficult. Just as the German mutant said; she knew where they were. A certain telepath was her target and a target of En Neheh Ankh's never escaped.

Charles Xavier would play the most important role in history that was to come.


End file.
